The Picture of Cruelty
by aRiddikulusRavenclaw
Summary: In an alternate universe, witches and wizards don't attend a school of magic. Draco Malfoy, being his usual inconsiderate self, is cursed to look on the outside the way he is on the inside. He believes that he will be stuck in that form forever. Meanwhile, Hermione Granger's father goes missing. She finds him at Malfoy Manor, and winds up staying. Beauty and the Beast AU.


Draco Malfoy was raised a spoiled and selfish child. He lived in a grand manor, had every worldly possession he desired, and was waited on, hand-and-foot, by his house elves. He was often told how attractive he was, with his white-blonde hair and silver eyes, and he knew it was true. He was as handsome as he was rich.

After his equally spoiled parents died, he inherited everything. His isolation within the walls of his lavish home only caused his amoral traits to escalate, until all but two of his house elves had abandoned him. Yet Draco didn't care; he spent his days locked in his room, counting his treasures and harboring disdain for the rest of the world.

Late one night in the middle of January, an old woman hobbled to his door and knocked. Draco opened the door, leaning against the doorjamb casually, and wearing his usual sneer.

"What?" he snapped.

"Please," the old woman said, "would you provide me shelter for the night?"

Draco examined the blizzard outside, aloof. "No," he said.

The old woman eyed him carefully. "It's terribly cold out here. Please, I beg you to help me."

"I told you no!" Draco snarled, standing up straight. "Now get off of my property before I make you!"

"Very well."

The old woman raised her hands to her sides, and light began to shimmer around her. In a bright flash that had Draco shielding his eyes, the old woman had transformed into a beautiful sorceress. Her sleek black hair hung long around her shoulders, a stark contrast to her emerald-green gown. Her blue eyes shone in the light from within the house.

"For your selfishness and cruelty, I, Minerva, cast a terrible curse upon you." She waved her right hand in front of Draco's face. "Now the monster you are inside can be seen by everyone around you. You have one year to find a woman that will love you as you are. If you fail, you will remain this way forever."  
With another bright burst of light, Minerva was gone.

Draco was on his knees, hunched over in great pain. He felt as if his every nerve was on fire; it was as if his father had cast the Cruciatus Curse on him. Black was tainting the edges of his vision, and he knew he was perilously close to losing consciousness. Two house elves came up behind him, and without saying a word, helped him to his feet and into his private chambers.

It was a long time before Draco felt as if he could move again. His muscles were stiff and sore, but he didn't feel engulfed in flames any longer. When he finally had his wits about him, he got out of bed and walked into the en suite. There, he spotted two items on the vanity that hadn't been there before: an intricately designed silver mirror and a single red rose. Draco picked up the mirror, confused as to where it had come from. He nearly dropped it when he saw his reflection.

A beast stared back at him in the glass. Gone were his aristocratic features, his admired handsomeness. Instead, strange cream-colored horns stuck up from the top of his head; he had horns! His perfectly straight teeth had been replaced with menacing fangs. His hands and feet were claws. Worst of all, he was covered in blonde fur, almost like a bear. Turning his head, Draco let out a muffled yell when he saw a tail protruding from his backside.  
Everything was all wrong, Draco thought as he rushed back into his bedroom. He picked up his wand from where it had been placed on the nightstand.

"Finite Incantatem," he said hurriedly, waving his wand at his torso.

Nothing happened.

He tried again.

The fur remained.

Draco ran from his room to the massive library and frantically began hunting through the books on Dark Magic that his father had kept. Hours later, he still had not found a counter-curse. With a cry of rage, he stormed from the library and began breaking everything within reach. Tentatively, a lone house elf approached him.

"Master, if I may?" he asked.

"What?" Draco roared, rounding on the tiny elf.

"The sorceress, something she said might help you."

Draco's eyes widened. "What is it? Tell me!"

The house elf fidgeted with his hands. "Well, she said if you could find a woman to love you within a year, the spell would be broken."

Suddenly weary, and heavy with despair, Draco slumped to the marble floor. "How could anyone love a monster?" he whispered.

* * *

In a small town, not too far from where Draco had hidden himself away, lived a lively young woman named Hermione Granger. It was early April, her favorite time of year, and she was out in the fields by her house, enjoying the wildflowers that grew there.

Hermione had a good life, and she enjoyed it. Though her mother had been dead for many years, her father was still around, and his antics kept her busy day and night. She loved him so much. He was a retired dentist, and quite ordinary, but he was constantly trying to invent the newest and greatest tool that would make dentistry just a little bit easier. And while she truly did enjoy her mostly quiet life, secretly, she longed for something that wasn't predictable or plain. She wanted extraordinary. Sometimes she thought she had seen something magical happen; sometimes she thought she had done the deed herself! Hermione knew it was just her imagination running wild. She spent almost all of her free time with her nose buried in books of fantasy and adventure, which clearly led to her fanciful thoughts.

A loud crash and a scream jolted her from her musings, and she dashed back toward her house. Hermione ran down the stairs to the basement entrance and flung open the door. Her father lay on the floor, panting, while a dentist's drill spun madly in the corner.

"Dad, are you all right?" she asked worriedly.

Dr. Granger sat up slowly. "Nothing feels broken."

Hermione shook her head. "You've got to be more careful."

"Nothing happened, really!" he protested. "I was just trying to get that drill over there to attach to this rotating glove."

Hermione examined the glove her father was holding. It was a rather amazing invention, she thought. Dr. Granger had managed to take an old gauntlet that he'd scrounged from an antiques shop and had added a brace at the wrist that could spin. There were several slots and holes within the brace that supposedly would be able to hold every tool a dentist would conceivably use. Apparently the problem was getting the tools to stay in place.

"You'll get it, Dad. I believe in you."

"Nobody else does," he said, shrugging.

"Yes, well, everyone in town thinks us a bit strange, don't they? What do we care?"

"We don't!"

"Exactly."

"Were you going to go into town for a new book today, dear?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "Is there anything you need while I'm out?"

"Could you stop at the hardware store? I've got a list of parts that I need."

"Of course."

Dr. Granger handed her a piece of notebook paper. "Thank you. I really think those parts will help me finish this project."

"You're welcome. I'll see you soon."

Hermione gave her father one last meaningful look before leaving the basement and starting the short walk into town. As she meandered down the dirt road, she critically examined the homes around her. It was strange how so many of the homes in this part of the country were old-style wooden cottages. They weren't living in medieval times—she wore jeans and everything! She supposed that it was to be expected, since they were located in a rather remote area.

The hardware store was near the center of town, across the road from the bakery. Since the bookstore was still a few blocks away, Hermione decided she would pick up her father's materials first. She pulled open the front door, then immediately wished she had gone to the bookstore first. Ronald Weasley was leaning against the counter, flexing his nonexistent bicep muscles, and grinning lasciviously at Lavender Brown, the most recent girl that was drooling after him. Lavender flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder, giggling prettily. Hermione ducked down the first aisle inside the store, purposely trying to avoid Ronald. He had been practically stalking her for the last year, trying to convince her to marry him. He claimed she was the prettiest girl in town, but she found it very hard to believe. Her thick curly hair could most often be described as bushy, and while her teeth were perfectly straight and even—now—she thought she looked rather plain.

Hermione quickly filled a shopping basket with the ratchet, nuts and bolts, and electrical wires that her father had requested. Then she made her way to the cashier, plastering on an indifferent expression. It didn't fool Ronald.

"Hermione," he purred. "You're looking particularly ravishing this morning."

"Hello, Ronald," she replied with a roll of her eyes.

Ronald waved Lavender away, and the daft blonde walked off, pouting in a clearly practiced manner. "I really think today will be the day I convince you to be my bride," he said cheerfully. "I can feel it."

Hermione handed the cashier the money for her purchases, stuck the grocery bag in her tote, and finally looked Ronald in the eyes. "I sincerely doubt that."

As she strode purposefully from the hardware store, Ronald followed her. "What do I have to do to prove my intentions are true?" he demanded.

Without looking at him, she replied, "Nothing. I believe you have intentions of claiming me as your own. I am just not interested."

"Why not?"

"We don't have anything in common! I love learning new things and reading books. As far as I'm aware, you don't love anything, you hate studying, and you would rather play sports with your other Neanderthal friends than pick up so much as a newspaper!"

Ronald reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to a stop. He shoved her into the nearby alley and pressed her against the wooden wall of the store. Leaning in close to her ear, he whispered, "I know you're a witch."

Hermione gasped involuntarily. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"No?" He raised an eyebrow. "l think you know exactly what I'm talking about. And I'll tell you a secret: I know you're a witch, because I'm a wizard. My family have been for centuries."

She pushed him by the shoulders, and he backed up a fraction. "I don't know what you're talking about," she insisted, "and I demand you let me go immediately."

Ronald held up his hands in surrender. "This isn't over, Hermione."

It took all of her self-control to walk calmly out of the alley. She turned halfway to address Ronald one more time. "It is for me." Then she walked down the street and ducked into the bookstore. She would be safe from him in here.

"Hermione! It's so good to see you!" the shop owner called out from where he perched on a ladder. "I was hoping you'd come by today! I just received a book I think you might be interested in. Would you like to take a look?"

Hermione smiled at the young man with messy black hair. "I'd love to, Harry."

He smiled widely and climbed down from the ladder. He disappeared behind a shelf for a moment, then reappeared with a thick tome in his hands. The cover and spine were decorated with gold inlay and brightly colored flowers. Harry handed her the book, then pushed his glasses back up his nose.

"Anne of Green Gables," she breathed. "How much?"

"It's yours," he replied. "Consider it a very late birthday gift."

She threw her arms around Harry and gave him a hug. "Thank you!"

Harry laughed and squeezed her in return. "You're welcome, 'Mione. It really was no trouble. I know how you love books."

"Tell Ginny I said hello, won't you?" Ginny was the only tolerable Weasley—well, former Weasley.

"Of course! We've got to get together for dinner sometime. James would really like to see you again."

"I'd love that, Harry." She adored Harry's son.

Hermione left the bookstore in a much better mood than she'd been in when she entered. She opened her new book and began to read as she walked home. She ignored the gossipy whispers that followed her out of town, and was soon alone on the dirt road leading back home. So engrossed was she in the story of Anne Shirley that she didn't notice Ronald until he had ambushed her outside her front door. He tore the novel from her hands and threw it to the ground. Hermione's eyes widened in shock when she saw that it landed in a puddle of mud.

"Ronald Weasley!" she screeched indignantly.

He grinned triumphantly and leaned his back against her front door. "Can't ignore me now, can you?"

Hermione glared at him, thinking that he would just see about that, then spun on her heel and stormed toward the basement entrance to her home. But as she rounded the corner to go inside, she was met with the sight of two of Ronald's brothers, Fred and George, each playing the Wedding March on a bugle…rather badly. Then Ronald's niece Victoire came skipping up the path, throwing flower petals to the ground as she went. Hermione scowled at each member of the Weasley family present, completely incensed at their forwardness.

"I'm not going to marry you, Ronald!" she screeched.

He came around the corner, pouting. "It's because I'm not rich, isn't it?"

"What?"

"It is!" Ronald nodded his head like it had been decided. "I suppose you'd rather marry someone extremely rich, like that prat Malfoy."

"I—you—" Hermione spluttered angrily.

"Well, too bad! Malfoy disappeared three months ago, and the police have already declared him dead. There's nothing there for you." He folded his arms.

Hermione raised herself up as tall as she could and made firm eye contact with the imbecilic redhead before her. "I. Do. Not. Want. To. Marry. Malfoy!"

"Then marry me!"

She rolled her eyes. "I don't want to marry you, either! If you and your wretched family don't get off my property this instant, I'll have you all arrested for harassment. Then I'll file a Restraining Order so you can't come near me again!" With that, she shoved past the Weasley twins and stormed into her father's basement workshop.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" asked Dr. Granger, watching as his daughter stormed through the door.

"That pest, Ronald Weasley! The dolt still thinks I'll marry him!" Hermione fumed.

Dr. Granger frowned. "I ought to have a word with that boy."

Hermione's eyes widened. "No! He'd probably think it was you giving him your blessing or something! That git is completely deluded!"

Her father nodded. "Yes, I can see how he might view it that way, what with his special brand of thinking."

Hermione couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her at her father's words. "Thank you for being on my side with this, Dad. Almost nobody else in town is. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil think I'm mad. Even Pansy Parkinson thinks I should accept! I just wish he'd pick one of those dimwits to marry instead."

"You need someone who will challenge you intellectually," Dr. Granger stated. "Ronald is barely more than an ape. He would do you no good."

"Exactly." After a moment, Hermione fished out the bag of hardware supplies her father had requested. "I did remember to bring you these."

"Wonderful! Thank you, sweetheart!"

Hermione smiled at her father, then cautiously left his workshop. Luckily, the Weasley family had cleared off, so she marched proudly across her lawn to the front door. She gingerly picked up the book Ronald had thrown in the mud. Sorrow filled her as she examined the ruined cover and waterlogged pages. Still, she hugged the book to her chest, wishing with all her might that Ronald hadn't laid a finger on it.

When Hermione got to her room, she set the book down on her nightstand and moved to change out of her slightly rumpled and dirty clothes. She walked across the hall to the bathroom and washed her face, trying to scrub away the images of Ronald still flashing through her mind. Then she returned to her room and flopped down on her bed. Turning her gaze mournfully toward her nightstand, Hermione bolted upright when she realized her book was in pristine condition. She was absolutely certain it had been beyond repair just minutes ago, yet now here it was, as good as new. She wondered briefly if Ronald had been right about her being a witch. Sometimes it didn't seem so impossible.

She shook her head in denial. It wasn't very likely. Ronald was just trying to throw her off balance, that was all. He had partially succeeded, but she would never admit that to him. He was a complete git as far as she was concerned, and she never wanted to see his ugly face again.

—

The next morning, Hermione awoke to delighted shouts coming from her father's workshop. She hurriedly dressed and ran down to meet him. Dr. Granger was dancing around the room, clutching his rotating dentist's glove in his hands. His gleeful laughter was contagious, and Hermione found herself smiling. She knew he must have succeeded in making the glove work; why else would he be dancing around the room with it? But just to make him even happier, she asked the question anyway.

"What's got you so happy, Dad?"

He skipped over to where she stood in the doorway. "I've done it, Hermione! The glove works! Watch!"

Dr. Granger proceeded to slip the rotating glove onto his hand, pressed a button on the top, just above his wrist, and pretended to be drilling someone's teeth. The drill clicked into gear, whirring softly—and also staying attached to the glove, as it was meant to do. After a moment, Dr. Granger flipped a switch by his thumb, and the band around his wrist rotated so he was holding the rinsing tool. Just to show Hermione he could, he sprayed a bit of water out of the end.

Hermione cheered. "It's wonderful!"

Her father hugged her tightly. "Just in time for the dentist's convention in the next town over tomorrow!"

Hermione's face fell the slightest bit. She worried that the other dentists might ridicule her father for his work, but then she fixed a smile back onto her face.

"That's great. Do you plan on walking there?"

Dr. Granger nodded. "I can take a shortcut through the woods to the east of us, and I'll get there before nightfall. I'll call you as soon as I get settled in the hotel."

"Wait, you're going to leave right now?"

"Of course! I still have to register for the convention; I didn't do it sooner because I wasn't sure the glove would be finished in time. But it is! I simply have to go. You understand, right?" He said all of this in a rush that left Hermione a bit dizzy.

"Yes, I do. At least take something to eat with you so you'll be able to keep walking all day," she said softly. "I don't want your blood sugar getting low again, especially after the last time you went traipsing through those woods."

"I promise I'll take care of myself if you'll promise to prepare the food," he said with a wink.

Hermione shook her head, laughing softly. "You always were hopeless in the kitchen."

She returned to the house to put together a picnic lunch for her father. Upon further reflection, she snatched some clothes from his room and folded them into a backpack. Hermione loved her father, but he could be a bit scatterbrained when he was excited. She placed his food on top of his clothes, tossed in a few more things he might appreciate, and brought the bag to her father in his workshop.

Dr. Granger beamed brightly at her. "That's my girl, always thinking ahead. Did you happen to put—" He stopped as he opened the backpack and spotted the object of his question. He withdrew his copy of The Complete Sherlock Holmes. "Yes. My brilliant daughter never forgets to pack a book."

Hermione hugged her father tightly. "Be careful, please. I don't want you to get hurt."

"I will, I promise." He replaced the book and added his dentist's glove to the bag. "I love you, Hermione."

"I love you, too, Dad."

She walked out of the workshop with him and escorted him as far as the meadow beside their house. She watched as he walked further into the distance, a distinctly uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. A part of her wondered if she should have insisted on going with him, even though she knew he would decline. Hermione just had a foreboding feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

* * *

Draco paced back and forth in his bedroom in agitation. No matter how many books he read, no matter how many spells he tried, he had not been successful in returning himself to normal. Most of the manor had been destroyed in his fits of rage, in his moments of feeling hopeless to the point that he almost longed for death.

He was startled from his angry reverie when Dobby the house elf entered the room.

"Master," Dobby squeaked, "there is someone at the manor. Come and see!"

Furious at the intrusion, Draco followed the elf all the way to the sitting room, where an older man was sitting in a wingback chair by the lit fireplace, being served food and given blankets by various house elves.

"What is this?" he roared.

The man spun around, a frightened look on his face. His expression turned to one of mortal terror upon seeing Draco's physical form. Even more incensed at that, Draco stormed over to the man, grabbed him the back of his shirt, and hauled him to his feet.

"What are you doing in my home?" he screamed in the man's face.

"P-please," the visitor stuttered, "the storm was so unexpected, and I got lost. I knocked on your door looking for help, and these children let me in."

Draco growled. "Nobody is allowed to stay here! It's the dungeons for you!"

Without listening to the house elves all speaking at once, trying to excuse the man's presence, he stormed out of the sitting room, down the hall, through the kitchen, and down the stairs to his dank cellar. He threw the man unceremoniously to the floor. With a wave of his wand, the door closed and locked behind him.

That ought to teach those wretched house elves to let anyone else into his home.

* * *

Hermione sat by the phone, anxiously waiting for her father to call. She had stayed awake all night, hoping he'd made it to the convention before the storm had hit. When the clock finally struck 10 AM, she decided to call the hotel herself and find out if her father was okay.

"Hello," she said when the desk attendant picked up the phone. "Has a Dr. Granger checked in for the convention yet?"

"Hold on, let me check." The sound of shuffling papers and computer keys clicking reached through the phone. "I'm sorry, there's no Dr. Granger registered at the convention or the hotel."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked frantically. "He was supposed to arrive last night before dinner."

"I'm sorry miss. There hasn't been anyone by the name of Granger here in the last month." The attendant sounded a bit worried on her behalf.

"Thank you," Hermione nearly whispered. "I must have mistaken his location."

She knew she hadn't. Something had happened to her father. Without stopping to think about it, she left the house and marched into the woods. She was going to find him.

Hermione reached the place where the path split in two quickly, even though it was still very muddy from the rain last night. She closed her eyes, trying to tap into her dad's thoughts when he had been in this spot. If she was successful, she might be able to figure out which way he went. Upon opening her eyes, she discovered a bright ball of orange light hovering before her. Her father's favorite color was orange. She must have somehow conjured the light. Maybe Ronald really was right about her having magical abilities.

She took a step toward the light. It darted down the left path and hovered a few feet from her. The left path led away from the town where her father was supposed to have gone. Doubt ran through Hermione at this. Surely her father wouldn't have gotten lost so soon into his journey. She made to go down the right path instead, but the ball of orange light grew brighter, becoming an almost sickly shade of red. A high-pitched whistle began emanating from it.  
Hermione cautiously took a step back toward the light, and it immediately returned to normal. She couldn't force her mind to come up with any other reasons why the ball of light was there, so she determined that it must lead to her father. She turned down the left path, following the light for several miles. Finally, a break in the trees ahead showed late afternoon sunlight, and she rushed toward it just as the ball of light winked out of existence. Hermione found out why when she left the shelter of the woods. She stood just outside the massive, wrought iron gates of Malfoy Manor. No. It couldn't be. Her father would never have come here.

The grounds had become wretchedly overgrown in the few short months since Draco had gone missing. She supposed that, with no owner left to keep order, the servants had all abandoned the property. It made sense. The house itself had once been shiny, white granite. Now it was a depressing shade of gray and looked as if it had been empty for years. A few of the marble pillars that supported the roof of the porch had been knocked down, causing the roof to sag slightly. The once neat brick path to the front door was no longer visible through the tangle of grass and weeds that had become the lawn. Overall, Hermione thought it looked haunted—and she didn't believe in ghosts.

Nervously, she approached the gates. The black paint was flaking around the edges, and small showers of rust fell to the ground at her touch. Didn't it normally take decades for a home to fall into this state of disrepair? Draco had only been gone for three months. This was just ridiculous.  
Hermione walked through the gates and up to the front door. It was partially ajar. Perhaps her father had simply taken shelter here for the night and intended on resuming his journey later. She pushed the door open further and stepped into the foyer. The hall was in tatters. Paintings had been torn from their frames, doors ripped from their hinges, vases smashed on the floors. Several of the marble tiles were broken, shaped as if miniature explosions had caused them to break outward. Tapestries on the walls were shredded. It looked as if a rabid animal had been inside.

Suddenly, Hermione was very afraid for her father's well being. What if the animal was still in the manor? Would it have attacked him? She took a few more timid steps down the hallway, and was surprised when she spotted her father's backpack on the floor by what might once have been a kitchen. She hurried through the doorway. The sound of someone pounding on a door and crying out for help drew her toward a stone staircase at the far end of the room.

Hermione ran down the steps. "Dad?" she shouted.

"Hermione?"

"Dad!"

"You have to get out of here! Run, before the beast comes back!"

Hermione frowned. "I'm not leaving you in there!"

Dr. Granger sighed audibly from behind the door. "It's locked, and there are no windows in here. I can't get out."

"I have to try," she insisted.

"No, just leave me! Go get help from the village!"

"All right." Hermione spun around to do as she was told, then froze in her tracks.

A large creature stood before her, a horrible snarl upon its face. Its blonde fur was almost white, but it was tinged with red around his claws. Hermione opened her mouth to scream when the monster spoke.

"What are you doing in my house?"

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in shock. "Y-your house?"

The beast's eyes narrowed. "That is what I just said."

Hermione's mind was spinning. Missing for three months, white-blonde fur, destroyed house… "Draco?" she asked timidly.

He growled. "Draco is dead."

She shook her head. "I'm pretty sure he's standing right in front of me."

Draco raised a paw as if to strike her. "He's dead!" he roared.

"Why did you lock up my father, Draco?" Hermione asked without preamble.

"He trespassed in my home. I have every right to do whatever I want to him."

"He wasn't trying to upset you. Please, let him go. I promise we won't bother you again." Hermione looked into Draco's eyes imploringly.

Draco stared at her for a long time. When he finally replied, it was in a dark tone. "I won't let him go for free."

"But—" Hermione started.

"However," Draco said loudly over her protests, "I'm willing to make a trade."

"A trade?"

He nodded. "Your life for his."

"Y-you want to kill me?" Hermione squeaked.

Draco rolled his eyes. "No. I'll just take you prisoner instead of him. What use do I have for an old man, anyway?"

Her eyes widened fearfully. "What use do you have for me?"

"That is for me to know, and you to find out."

Hermione thought frantically. Perhaps with her newfound magic she would be able to escape. She knew she stood a better chance than her father would, that was for certain. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, straightened her back, and stuck her chin in the air defiantly.

"Deal."

* * *

Draco stared at the girl in awe. He hadn't actually expected her to agree. He might have even let both of them go, if only to regain his solitude. He quickly composed his obscured expression into one of apathy.

"No, Hermione, don't!" the old man screamed from behind the door.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Dobby!"

The little house elf appeared at his side with a small pop! "Yes, Master Draco?"

"Take the old man out of the cellar and get him out of the manor. Now."

Dobby nodded his head, then Apparated into the cellar. Dr. Granger could be heard hollering in shock from behind the door, and then, with another pop! everything went silent. Draco pulled out his wand and waved it to unlock the door. He gestured with one huge paw for Hermione to enter the dark room.

Hermione folded her arms stubbornly. "What have you done with my father?"

Draco rolled his eyes again. "I just had my house elf take him back to the road. I'm sure he'll manage to find his way home by himself."

Understanding dawned on the girl's face. "Y-you have magic?"

"What of it?" he demanded.

Her face fell in disappointment. "Never mind," she whispered.

Finally out of patience, Draco lightly shoved Hermione into the cellar. "One of the house elves will bring you bread and water shortly." He moved to shut and lock the door when the girl spoke again.

"Please, could I have a light and something to read? I can't be your prisoner if I die of boredom."

Draco fought a laugh at her brazenness, then nodded his bushy head. "Fine. That will be provided as well."

"Thank you."

He shook his head as he walked away from the now-locked cellar. Even though it was unintentional, it seemed that he had found himself a source of entertainment. If he had to remain a monster for the rest of his life, at least it wouldn't be so dull and depressing anymore. For the first time in months, Draco found himself smiling as he returned to his room. Things were about to change.

—

Later that evening, Draco was approached by two of his house elves, Dobby and Winky. They both bowed to him, then proceeded to fidget nervously with their ears. Draco watched them impatiently. It didn't take long for him to lose his cool.

"What is it?" he finally snapped.

Dobby cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Dobby and Winky was talking, sir. We had an idea."

Windy nodded, gulped, and added, "We think maybe the girl might be the counter-curse."

Draco shook his head. "That's absurd. She's a commoner, a Muggle. There's nothing she can do to help me."

"Sir, maybe that is why she can help," Dobby suggested. "She may see the real Master Draco."

"And," Winky pitched in, "she is not Muggle. The girl has magic in her blood."

"Really?" Draco was surprised. "I had no idea."

"She has only just discovered her magic, sir," Dobby said.

Draco shrugged his heavy shoulders. "Still, that doesn't matter. I don't know the first thing about how to care about someone, let alone how to love them. If I can't figure it out, how is she supposed to love me?"

Winky nodded her head vigorously, her big ears flapping. "That is where Winky and Dobby help Master Draco," she said happily. "We will tell you how."

"And you really think that will work?" Draco asked skeptically.

"It might take some time, but yes. It will work," Dobby said confidently.

"All right. What do I do?"

"Master Draco must not leave Miss Hermione in the cellar. It is cold and damp there," Winky said. "Give her one of the guest rooms to live in."

"But I've destroyed most of the manor. There's nowhere that's suitable enough for her."

"Master Draco is a wizard, is he not?" Dobby asked pointedly. "Use magic."

Winky nodded again. "Winky and Dobby will help clean up, too."

Draco nodded reluctantly. "Fine. We clean up first, right?"

"Yes," Dobby agreed. "Dobby will clean downstairs."

"Winky will clean north wing." She Disapparated before anyone could object.

"I guess that leaves me with this wing," Draco muttered. "When everything is done, Dobby, take the girl to her room. I don't care which one."

Dobby nodded and turned to go, but paused in the doorway. "Dobby thinks maybe Master Draco should call the girl by her name. It helps."

"Fine."

Draco left his room and began making his way through the south wing, repairing things as he went. He Scourgified and Reparoed for hours. He found that he was meticulous in his cleaning of that part of the manor, suddenly as obsessive about its cleanliness as he used to be about its destruction. Perhaps having the girl—Hermione he reminded himself—around had already begun to change him. When he was finished, Draco realized that he didn't want Hermione to find the enchanted mirror or the rose. The rose had begun losing petals almost as soon as it had arrived, and he had realized that it signified another month passing as each petal fell. He had but seven and a half months left before his curse was permanent. As for the enchanted mirror, he didn't want her to see that because it allowed one to view any person or place that held meaning for them. Draco had found himself often gazing at the place where his parents were entombed, wondering what life would have been like if they'd cared about him just a little more.

He quickly took the mirror and rose into a small room at the end of the hall and placed them on a rickety table. He conjured a glass dome to protect the rose, then left the room. Draco carefully locked the door, then returned to his bedroom. He sat on his bed, contemplating reading a book, when Dobby's voice reached him.

"Miss Hermione's room is right here," the elf said.

Draco jumped to his feet and hurried to the doorway, only to see Dobby escorting Hermione into the room across the hall from his. He groaned inwardly, realizing that the conniving little elf would do that. He should have specified that he didn't care where Hermione was placed so long as it wasn't in this wing of the manor. But it was too late now to move her somewhere else if he was attempting to appear as a kind and benevolent…man…

When he heard the pop! that indicated Dobby had left, he walked across the hall and pushed open Hermione's door. She sat on the plush bed, staring at her grand surroundings. Draco watched her for a brief moment before he cleared his throat to get her attention. Her head whipped toward him.

"There is a door at the end of the hall that leads to a private room. You are never to enter that space, is that clear?" He left no room for argument.

Hermione scowled at him. "This room is still just as much a prison as the cellar was," she sneered. "Just because you've given me a soft bed doesn't mean I'm not being kept here against my will."

Draco glared back at her. "I don't care what you think, just don't go into that room! The rest of the manor is yours to explore." With that, he turned around and stomped into his bedroom, making sure to slam the door as loud as he could behind him.

When he was again seated on his bed, Winky appeared back in his room.

"Master Draco?"

"What?" he roared. "Haven't I done enough for you today? Aren't you supposed to be the servant?"

Winky sighed. "Sir has done good," she said, "but is still mean to Miss Hermione."

"I gave her a bloody suite! She has a closet full of the finest dress robes available, and free access to every room in the manor! How is that mean?"

Winky began fiddling with her huge ears again. "Master Draco yelled at Miss Hermione."

Draco rolled his eyes. "So?"

"Sir is not supposed to yell at a woman. They do not like it." Winky was beginning to sound exasperated.

"What would you suggest, then?" Draco asked in resignation. "I already told you I'm no good at this!"

"Invite her to have dinner with you, Master Draco," Winky suggested. "Miss Hermione is surely hungry by now. She didn't eat the food Winky brought her earlier."

Draco nodded sharply. "Fine."

"Winky will send Dobby to help Master to dress if he wishes."

"All right! Just go!"

Winky squeaked and Disapparated before Draco had the chance to berate her further.

Draco sighed heavily. Things were definitely not going the way he had thought they would. The day wasn't even over yet, and he had let his house elves boss him around more than they ever had before. He would have felt disgusted with himself if he didn't also feel so hopeful that there was a woman in his home.  
Once again, he trekked across the hall. This time he knocked on Hermione's door. He waited, but there was no reply, so he knocked again, louder this time.

"Go away!" Hermione shouted.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Dinner is in one hour. You will join me," he commanded.

"No!"

He really had no idea how to do this. "Don't be stupid! You'll have to eat eventually!"

"I'm not hungry! Leave me alone!"

Draco scowled. "Fine, then starve!" he bellowed at her closed door.

He stomped back to his room, convinced that he would never get Hermione to come around. She was determined to hate him, so he figured he may as well resign himself to the idea of living as a literal monster forever. Just then, Dobby appeared in his room, a gleeful smile plastered upon his elfin face.

"Master Draco is ready for Dobby?" he asked.

"Get out of here!" Draco yelled. "Dinner is canceled!"

Dobby's eyes widened. "What did Master say to Miss Hermione?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Dobby shifted his weight. "Well, Dobby thinks it was Miss Hermione that decided not to have dinner. That means Master said something to make her angry."

"All I said was that dinner would be in an hour and she should join me."

"And then?" Dobby asked, raising a tiny eyebrow.

"And then she told me she wasn't hungry, so I said she would have to eat eventually. She told me to leave her alone." Draco frowned as he contemplated their mostly one-sided conversation. "I may have told her to starve after that."

Dobby shook his head forlornly, his ears flopping back and forth. "Oh, no, Master Draco. A man should treat a lady with respect, not command her to do things. Master should have asked her nicely to accompany him instead. Miss Hermione might have accepted then."

Draco scowled. "Might? You mean after all that effort, she still might have said no? Then what's the bloody point?"

The elf looked at him in disbelief. "To break the curse, Master Draco."

"Well, it's obviously not happening tonight, Dobby," Draco sighed in frustration. "Did Hermione happen to tell you what kinds of books she likes?"

Dobby nodded. "Miss Hermione likes books about dragons, sir."

"Bring her half a dozen books from the library. And have Winky bring her a tray of food. Keep bringing things until you find out what she likes to eat," Draco ordered.

"Dobby thinks it might be better if Master delivered to Miss Hermione instead."

"Why?" Draco asked.

"It will be more personal, sir. Miss Hermione will know that the gifts come from you, and will learn to think of you better." Dobby nodded his head as he spoke, obviously certain of his reasoning.

"Okay," Draco muttered. "Have Winky prepare something Hermione might like while I go look in the library for some books."  
Dobby bowed and disappeared from the room without another word.

* * *

Hermione was not about to give Draco the satisfaction of thinking she had been broken by him. She hadn't. In fact, a small part of her was thrilled by this unexpected turn of events in her life. Certainly she would be free of Ronald Weasley now. He wouldn't even think to look for her here. Although, if he were to get wind of the fact that Draco was indeed still at the manor, and that she lived here now, he would feel justified in his accusation from a few days ago. But she still didn't want to marry Draco, especially with the physical state he was in. What in Morgana's name had happened to him?

Not that she knew him from before his seclusion. He was only a revered name whispered in the streets of the village. His family was the richest in the country, that much was common knowledge. The Malfoy family had amassed wealth and power in ways that hadn't been seen since England was still ruled under a strict monarchy. Hermione now knew why, of course. If Draco had magic, it stood to reason that his ancestors had had it as well, which was what had aided them in their success. She frowned, thinking it was a bit too much like cheating. Using magic to gain wealth and power. How…well, cheap.

As Hermione was pondering her new circumstances, a knock sounded on her door. It was probably Draco, so she ignored it and returned to her musings. A few seconds later the knock came again, but much louder. It almost sounded like the door would splinter under Draco's massive paw.

"Go away!" she shouted, hoping he'd just do it.

"Dinner is in one hour. You will join me," he said forcefully.

"No!" Persistent twit.

"Don't be stupid! You'll have to eat eventually!" Draco yelled.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not hungry! Leave me alone!" She was actually having a bit of fun riling him up.

"Fine, then starve!" he roared.

She smirked triumphantly. He was almost too easy to infuriate. Perhaps it was because of his unfortunate circumstances, but it was still rather fun to annoy him. At least she wouldn't really die of boredom here if she could torment him indefinitely.

Less than an hour later, a flap appeared in the bottom of her door. Hermione watched it curiously, understanding that it was obviously magicked there, but unsure of why. After a moment, a tray of food was shoved through it. She recognized one of Draco's enormous paws as he pushed it into her room. She scowled at the tray for a moment. He couldn't possibly have any good motives for doing this for her.

Eventually, she climbed off of the bed and approached the tray of food. She wrinkled her nose in disgust at what she saw. Jellied eels befouled one plate, and periwinkle sea snails offended another. Draco truly must not have any idea what good food looked like. A small bowl contained a serving of cranachan, which was a mite better than the other items, but Hermione was allergic to oatmeal, so it too was inedible. She sat on the floor beside the door flap, then pushed the tray back out into the hall.

Ten heartbeats later, Draco slid another tray of food into the room. Hermione shook her head in amusement. This time the food was much improved, but still not to her taste. A plate of miniature mincemeat pies was the centerpiece, with sides of kedgeree and welsh cawl. Again, Hermione pushed the tray into the hall.

Another tray passed through the flap. Hermione smirked. She didn't even bother looking at what was on the tray before she returned it. This game was beginning to be fun. She heard Draco sigh loudly before he sent in another tray. She pushed it back out immediately. A moment later, one small plate was slid into her room. It held a large slice of a decadent chocolate cake. Hermione nearly moaned at the smell that wafted up to her. She longed to take a bite. Actually, she thought she might rather face-plant into it and use it for oxygen. One brief internal debate later, she decided to keep the cake. While not remotely healthy, it was comforting.

When she pulled the cake closer and the door flap closed, she heard Draco chuckle softly in the hallway. Was it possible they were bonding? Over food? Hermione never would have believed it had she not been the one experiencing it. A fork slid through the flap, and she took her turn laughing at the strange situation. When she was done, she pushed the empty plate—licked clean—and the fork back into the hallway. Draco wasn't quiet as he pushed himself to his feet and picked up the discarded plate. Hermione listened until she couldn't hear his rumbling footsteps anymore, then retired back to her bed. She was loath to admit it, she thought that maybe living here with Draco, in whatever physical form he found himself in, wouldn't be so bad.

—

Hermione and Draco kept up their strange food routine over the next several weeks. She never left her suite of rooms, and he would deliver her various meals three times a day. She spent the first several minutes returning every dish he tried to give her, and he finally wound up giving her something with chocolate in it. Then he made her eat something healthy. But the game was fun, so she did it willingly enough.

One day, at the end of her second month living at Malfoy Manor, a book was passed through the door flap. It was between mealtimes; Hermione knew it was very unusual for Draco to visit outside of those hours. She walked over to her door and picked up the book. It was something written in Chinese. Draco had to have known it was unlikely she'd know the language. Perhaps the game would begin with literature as well. So she pushed the book back into the hall. Another soon followed, this one about politics in America. Hermione wrinkled her nose and returned that book, too. The next was a graphic novel. She didn't even consider it before sliding it back under the door flap. Draco chuckled and slipped another book into her room. This one was on mathematics. While she didn't have an aversion to learning, she really had no interest in arithmetic at the moment. She was craving a story of adventure or romance. After a lengthy pause, Draco slid in a collection of Jane Austen's novels. Hermione squealed in delight and snatched the book up hungrily.

She spent the next week reading through the novels, and the week after rereading them. And so began a game of passing books through the door flap. This continued for another couple of months, along with the meals three times a day. Hermione was beginning to think that Draco spent all of his time curled up outside her door in order to maintain the games. Merlin knew she'd fallen asleep beside her door dozens of times.

* * *

In mid-August, Draco finally grew tired of Hermione keeping herself locked in her bedroom. He had tried to be kind, and felt like he had succeeded to a certain degree. But their friendship—or more, if he could manage it—would not progress if they didn't have an actual conversation.

"How do I get her to come out, Winky?" he asked the house elf desperately. "I'm running out of time!"

"What does Miss Hermione love most, sir?" Winky replied with her own question.

Draco frowned. "Chocolate. And books. I don't know what else."

"Show her the library, Master Draco," the elf suggested.

"It's worth a try."

He sat down at his desk and spent hours making a map of the manor that led from the south wing to the library. He figured that Hermione might not be receptive to him if he knocked on the door, but perhaps a note and a treasure map would be enticing enough. He certainly hoped so. With the map finished, he pulled out another piece of parchment to write her a short note. It took him twice as long to figure out what to say. The next day, after writing draft after draft throughout the night, he finally thought he had it down.

 _Hermione,_  
 _First, let me apologize for how I treated you when you first arrived. It was unfair of me to coerce you into living here the way I did. I am truly sorry. I hope you will forgive me someday._  
 _I know we haven't spent any time together since you've arrived, and I'd like to change that if you'll let me. I have a gift for you, but it is not something that will fit through your door flap. I have included a treasure map to its location. I will be waiting for you all day to arrive. I will wait tomorrow and the next day and the next as well, because I don't want to give up yet._  
 _Please let me make everything up to you. I promise you will not regret it._  
 _Draco_

It was by far the best note he'd come up with, and he finally decided it would suffice. He rolled the two pieces of parchment up and tied them together with a small piece of string. Using the delicate silver platter that Winky had left for him, Draco set the scroll in the center, accompanied by a chocolate bar and a fragile daisy. He quickly slipped the tray under Hermione's door and went down to the library to wait.

Since he didn't want to miss the look on Hermione's face when she saw the library for the first time, he sat outside in the hall on a chair Dobby had brought him. Draco waited for what felt like days for Hermione to appear. Winky brought him the occasional meal, but he refused to eat. Waiting around was tying his stomach in knots. What if she didn't come? Would he ever convince her to leave her room? If not, he supposed it would probably be best if he let her return home. After all—

"Draco?" A timid voice from the end of the hall snapped him from his reverie.

"Hermione?"

The girl in question rounded the corner, eyeing him warily. "Why are we here?"

He gestured to the double doors behind him. "Your gift is in there."

"Oh."

Draco pushed the chair away from the doors, then motioned for Hermione to come closer. "Close your eyes."

She frowned petulantly at him, but complied anyway. He silently swung the doors open and gently led Hermione into the room, making sure she kept her eyes shut. When they were in the center of the library, where the ceiling was nearly forty feet high, he took a step away from her.

"Okay. You can open your eyes."

Hermione gaped at the massive library around her. Every wall contained floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and every shelf was crammed full. Throughout the library more shelves were arranged—also full—with cozy armchairs and tables interspersed. A grand fireplace graced the east wall, and a cheery fire crackled within it. A second story balcony contained even more bookshelves and books. The library was perhaps the most grand room in the manor, second only to the ballroom.

"What's the gift?" Hermione whispered reverently.

"This. The entire library—it's yours. Everything," Draco responded quietly.

She shook her head. "It's too much."

"No," he countered, "it's not enough."

Hermione finally turned to him, her face beaming. "Thank you. No one has ever done anything this wonderful for me before."

It took all of Draco's willpower not to fidget nervously as he asked his next question. "So, am I forgiven?"

She nodded. "A thousand times over."

"I really am sorry, you know."

Hermione nodded again. "I know. And I'm sorry for being so stubborn. I should have left my room weeks ago."

"But I understand why you didn't." Draco shrugged. "I've never been good at having friends before. All of this is new to me."

"Is that what we are? Friends?" she asked softly.

"Only if you want," he hastened to assure her.

"I really think I'd like that, Draco."

He nodded briskly. "Well, go on and browse through your books," he encouraged.

"Will you stay?" Hermione asked, seeming a bit shy.

"Sure. I'll wait by the fireplace." Draco took a step in that direction.

"I think I'll start with researching how to break your curse." Her musing aloud stopped him in his tracks. "I mean, obviously it's a curse. You weren't born like this; that would be preposterous. There must be something in the books about Dark magic—"

"Hermione," Draco interrupted, "there's nothing in here that will break the curse."

She frowned. "What makes you say that?"

He sighed heavily. "I spent the first three months in here looking for anything that might help, and nothing did."

"But there must be a way!" she insisted.

"There is. Come on, I'll show you."

Draco heaved another sigh and led Hermione back through the south wing to the locked door he had insisted she never breach. She looked on, a line of worry etched between her brows. He closed his eyes and pushed the door open; Hermione entered the room first, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"What is this, Draco?"

"That rose is a representation of how long I have until my curse becomes permanent."

She quickly counted the petals. "But there are only four petals left!"

"I know," he whispered.

"What's the cure?" Hermione spun to face him, a desperate gleam in her eyes.

Draco scratched the back of his furry neck uncomfortably. "Er, it's…well…it's complicated."

Winky popped into the room, a mischievous grin on her face. "Master Draco must fall in love before all the petals fall," she squeaked gleefully. "And the girl must love him in return." Then she popped out of the room again.

Hermione stared at Draco incredulously, and he hid his face in his hands.

"All of this is about love?" she finally asked.

He nodded. "Something like that."

"I'm not sure I completely understand."

"The witch that cursed me…she did it because I was cruel to her. She said if I didn't find someone to love me, beast and all, that I would remain this way forever." He didn't lift his face as he spoke, making his words sound muffled.

"I don't think you're cruel," Hermione whispered. "At least, not anymore."

Draco shook his head, still not looking up. "Nothing has changed for me. I've accepted my fate."

There was a long silence, and Draco thought for sure Hermione had left the room, when a soft hand cupped his cheek. He looked up. Hermione looked into his eyes, compassion shining from her own. His throat went dry, and he found he couldn't speak.

"That's not true. Would you have gone to such lengths for me before you were cursed? Would the thought have even crossed your mind?" she asked gently.

He shook his head again. "Don't you understand? The reason I made you stay here was because of the curse. It was completely selfish of me; I wasn't thinking about anyone else."

"Draco, I do understand that. I understood the moment Winky popped in here. I don't care. What matters now is that you have changed. You stopped thinking about yourself the moment you started trying to make me feel more at home here." Hermione lifted her other hand to his face. "Even though we haven't spent a lot of time together, I do feel like I know you by the things you've done for me."

"It doesn't matter anyway," Draco mumbled. "How could anyone love a monster?"

She closed her eyes and smiled. "You're not a monster."

"How do you know?" he demanded.

Opening her eyes, she fixed him with a determined glare. "If I were to ask you to let me go home right now, what would you say?"

Draco sighed and answered, "I'd tell you to go."

She nodded as if this proved her point.

"So what?" he asked impatiently.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you were a monster, you wouldn't let me leave."

He frowned. "So what now? You say I'm not a monster, but what good does that do me? You want to go home? Fine. Go. I already told you I've accepted the inevitable."

"You can be really dense sometimes, you know that?"

"What?"

"My whole point is that I don't want to leave. I want to get to know you better, the real you." She took a step closer. "You are not irredeemable, Draco. Let me help you."

He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the turn their conversation had taken. "You don't love me. Why would you?"

"I like you," Hermione persisted. "Why don't you give me a chance to get to know you? There is always hope."

Draco stood abruptly, and her hands fell away from his face. "I—I have to go."

Before she could protest, he hurried back to his room and locked the door behind him. How could she say such things to him? She couldn't possibly mean that she might fall in love with him. The idea was insane! He hadn't treated her nearly good enough to warrant such acceptance and compassion. Everything was so mixed up; it left him wondering how he would survive the coming months.

* * *

Hermione stayed in the small room, staring at the nearly-dead rose, for a long time after Draco left. Had she really said something so terrible? His curse was meant to teach him how to love someone selflessly, yet he was afraid to devote himself so wholeheartedly to another person. She thought for a moment that he actually liked being a beast, but then she remembered the state the manor was in when she arrived. No, he didn't enjoy his predicament. So what was it then? Was it her? Draco admitted to her that he had originally taken her captive to try and break his curse, but now he didn't seem to want her around. That had to mean that he had changed his mind about her.

She frowned, utterly confused. Why had he tried so hard to impress her if he didn't want her to stay? Why had he given her the most glorious library she'd ever seen only to dismiss her less than an hour later? Hermione picked up the silver mirror from the table. She examined the delicate carvings around the handle and frame, then turned it over. Etched into the back in looping cursive were the words _Vide cor tuum concupiscentia_. "See your heart's true desire."  
The mirror must be enchanted. She turned it back over and stared into the glass. At first it showed her reflection, then rippled like a stone thrown into a pond. When the image cleared, it showed Draco, sitting on his bed with his face in his hands again. Hermione was startled. No, it couldn't be. She ran back to her room and locked herself inside. She had some thinking to do.

Had she really fallen for Draco in the few months they'd interacted? They had never really had a conversation until today, yet she was completely serious when she had told him earlier that she wanted to try to get to know him better. She honestly believed that she could fall for him. But if this mirror truly showed her what she desired most, then her feelings for Draco were apparently already very developed. How in Merlin's name had that happened?  
Hermione contemplated their many games over food and books as the months had passed. After the first time he'd gotten her to eat—chocolate cake, anyway—he'd always brought a few dishes that were utterly repulsive before sliding her true meal through the door flap. It often consisted of eggs, bacon, and pancakes for breakfast; various sub sandwiches or soups came for lunch; best of all was dinner, though—delectable roasts and meat pies and potatoes prepared in every variety. The food really was exquisite, and she realized just how much it taught her about Draco's personality. He obviously cared about her preferences, or he wouldn't go to such trouble to find foods she liked—or, at least ask the house elves to, anyway.

The game of books was something else entirely. While he started it out in a similar fashion, first delivering books that wouldn't tempt the most boring soul on the planet, then providing stories of adventure and intrigue, or sometimes educational books that she thought most interesting. In some ways, she realized that they had had their own sort of conversations through the passing of books. She learned what types of books he found fascinating by the kinds he initially brought her, and he learned what she liked based on what she accepted.  
Draco and Hermione had gotten to know each other without using words.

She didn't yet know if she loved him, but there was definitely something there that wasn't there before.

—

When Draco still hadn't emerged from his room after a week, Hermione cautiously walked across the hall to his bedroom and knocked on the door. He didn't answer, and she was instantly reminded of how she had treated him that first time he'd approached her in her bedroom. The thought struck her that maybe she should treat this situation similarly. She hurried to her bedroom and scribbled a quick note to him.

 _Draco,_  
 _Let me in. I have something very important to show you. Please._  
 _Hermione_

She magicked a flap into the bottom of his door with a mere thought, which caused her a brief moment of pause. Hermione shook her head and pushed the note through the flap before she could second guess herself. She sat herself down next to his door, ready to wait for as long as it took Draco to come out. She waited for almost half an hour before the door creaked open hesitantly.

Hermione jumped to her feet, spinning to face Draco.

"What?" he asked quietly.

"I need you to see something," she said just as softly.

Draco gestured with one huge paw for her to continue. She picked the mirror up from the floor and looked at it. Once again, it showed her an image of the man—yes, he was really a man underneath all that fur—standing in front of her. It was disconcerting seeing him in double. Hermione turned the mirror around and hugged it to her chest. Draco's eyes widened when he saw himself reflected back.

"Wh-what is this?"

"The mirror shows you your heart's true desire, Draco. What do you see?"

He shook his head. "That's impossible," he murmured.

"Is it really?" she asked. "I don't think so."

Slowly, Draco reached for the mirror, and she relinquished it to him. He turned it around so she could see what was there; she was less surprised than she should have been to see her image in the glass.

"Really?"

He nodded.

"Well then," Hermione whispered, taking a step closer to him, "it would seem we need to spend more time together."

He again nodded soundlessly.

She carefully wrapped her arms around his overlarge torso and laid her head against his chest. His arms slowly came up to wrap around her, he still clutching the mirror in one hand. Draco rested his shaggy head atop her mass of curls. They stood that way for a long time, lost in each others' embrace. It was Draco who finally stepped away.

He looked carefully into her eyes, then asked, "So what happens now?"

Hermione stared back at him. "I don't know. I've never done this before."

"Neither have I," Draco said. With a small smile, he added, "We could ask one of my house elves. They've been helping me figure things out along the way."

She laughed. "That might work."

Draco opened his mouth, presumably to actually call for a house elf, when Dobby appeared beside them with his usual pop!

"Master Draco!" he squeaked anxiously. "Someone is at the manor, sir! Someone angry!"

Hermione frowned. "Do you know who it is?"

Dobby shook his head, his ears flapping into his face. "No, Miss Hermione, but I can show you." He waved his hand, and a translucent bubble shivered to life in the air. A moment later, an image solidified.

"It's Ronald!" Hermione gasped in horror.

"Weasley?" Draco asked curiously.

"Yes! How did he find me?"

"What do you mean?" Draco demanded. "What has he done to you?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, he hasn't done anything. He just thinks he wants to marry me, and he won't take no for an answer. It's been going on for about a year now."

Draco scowled. "Dobby, did you tell him to leave?"

"Yes, sir. Dobby was ignored, sir."

"I suppose I'll have to deal with him, then."

"I'll come with you," Hermione said.

Draco turned to her, gently placing his hands on her shoulders. "Maybe that's not such a good idea," he said. "He might not have the best of intentions."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I can handle Ronald."

Reluctantly, Draco nodded. "Be careful, though."

She smirked, thinking how amusing it was that Draco was already being so protective. She kind of liked it. She followed him downstairs to the front hall. When he reached for the doorknob, Hermione put a hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe I should open the door," she suggested. "I don't want him doing anything rash when he sees you."

Draco nodded. "All right."

Hermione stepped forward—while Draco hung back a few feet, just out of sight—and pulled the door open. Ronald paced back and forth on the huge porch in obvious agitation. When he saw her, he rushed over and grabbed her shoulders.

"Hermione, I'm so glad to see you! Have you been in Malfoy Manor all these months?"

"Yes, Ronald, and I'm perfectly fine." She pushed his hands from her shoulders and folded her arms across her chest. "What are you doing here?"

"Your father finally came to me and asked me for help. He told me you were being held prisoner here." Ronald's voice rose in alarm.

Hermione sighed. "Well I'm not, so you can just leave."

He frowned. "No, I won't leave. You're coming with me right now."

"No. I want to stay here," she protested.

Ronald sighed impatiently and grabbed one of her wrists. "Come on. I don't have time for this." He pulled on her roughly.

"Let go of me, Ronald!" she yelled. "I'm not coming with you!"

With a snarl, he pulled a wand from his pocket. "So help me, Hermione, I will Stupefy you if you don't cooperate."

"Ronald!"

* * *

Draco had heard enough. As soon as Weasley put his hands on Hermione, he lost his cool. But when the moron actually threatened her with magic, he burst out onto the porch, a snarl on his face.

"Let her go, Weasley!" he hollered.

Ronald did let go of her, but only out of shock. His mouth dropped open at the sight of Draco, his face a mask of terror.

"What is that?" he shouted, pointing a finger at him rudely.

Draco roared wordlessly at him.

Ronald blanched, then aimed his wand at Draco's heart.

"No!" Hermione screamed. She ran at Ronald and shoved his wand arm down. "Leave him alone!"

Ronald turned on her. "What? That monster tried to kill me!"

"He did no such thing," she scolded. "He just didn't want you manhandling me."

"This is what's been keeping you here, isn't it?" he accused.

Draco took a step forward. "Get off my property."

If it was possible, Ronald's eyes bugged out even further. "Your property? You're…Malfoy?"

"What of it?"

"What the bloody hell happened to you?"

"Ronald! Leave him alone!" Hermione shouted. "He's done nothing to you. I'll contact my father and let him know I'm all right. You need to leave right this minute."

Ronald rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Hermione. It's your death." Then he turned and stomped away from the manor.

Draco made to follow him off of the porch, but stopped when Hermione touched his arm gently. He turned to look at her, and she shook her head with an imploring look on her face. He sighed, and followed her back into the manor.

"Thank you, Draco," she said softly. "I don't know if he really would have used magic against me, but I'm glad you intervened."

"Of course. I'll always protect you." He didn't quite mean to say something so revealing, but it was too late to take it back now.

But Hermione smiled happily. "And I'll always protect you."

Draco smiled and shook his head. As if he'd need protecting, in either this state or his human one. The sentiment was sweet, all the same.

"How about we go find something to read in the library?" he suggested.

"That sounds great!" she replied, nodding enthusiastically.

They made their way to the grand library, and Hermione immediately rushed off. Draco figured she already knew just what book she wanted. He was right; she returned within minutes, a large book clutched tightly to her chest. When she drew closer, she turned the cover so he could read the title. Storm Front.

"What's it about?" Draco asked.

Hermione's eyes brightened. "It's about a wizard detective in America," she chattered excitedly. "It's a murder mystery."

"Let's get started."

They spent the next several hours reading. Draco sat on the floor in front of the fireplace, leaning up against an armchair, while Hermione rested her back against his chest. He held the book so they both could see it easily, and they enjoyed the story in companionable silence. Whenever Hermione finished a page, she would glance up at him and wait until he was ready for the next. He often finished reading the pages before she did, but spent the extra time watching Hermione as she read. He thought she was very beautiful when she was relaxed and happy.

Everything was peaceful until the sun reached the horizon.

Draco and Hermione jolted to their feet when they heard the front door blast open. He motioned for her to stay in the library while he investigated the intrusion. He peered out into the hallway. It wasn't exactly a surprise to find Ronald in the entry with his older brothers and several other thugs from town.

"There!" Ronald shouted. "That's the beast that's kidnapped Hermione!"

All ten people rushed toward him at Ronald's words. Draco ducked back into the library and hurriedly locked and warded the door.

"They're here for me," he said resignedly. "You need to hide."

Hermione scowled at him. "No way! I won't just let them hurt you, Draco."

He shook his head. "There's not time to argue. If you won't hide, then you need to stay in here. I'll take care of them this time."

"Draco, please—"

"No, Hermione. I'm not negotiating." And before she could protest further, he Apparated into the hallway, leaving Hermione in the locked and warded room.

She should be safe in there.

"Get out!" Draco yelled at the group of intruders.

They rushed at him again, Ronald in the lead.

"You're dead, Malfoy!"

"In your dreams, Weasel!" Draco retorted.

His words only seemed to further enrage Ronald. Multicolored streams of light began flashing past him as the mob of angry men began firing jinxes his way. Draco whipped out his own wand and began disarming the assorted wizards one by one. It was quick work—most of them were very poor with defensive magic.

Draco laughed triumphantly as he faced down Ronald. "You and your band of misfits are no match for me, Weasley. Give up now, and I'll let you all live."  
But it seemed Draco had underestimated Ronald, for in the next second the gangly redhead had aimed his wand and shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"

* * *

Hermione managed to break through Draco's wards and pull open the library doors just in time to see the burst of green light hit him square in the chest. With a look of surprise on his face, Draco crashed backward onto the floor.

"No!" Hermione ran forward and knelt by his side. His eyes were open, but were glazed over, unseeing. She glared up at Ronald. "You killed him! You _killed_ him!"

Ronald sneered derisively. "That was sort of the point."

Words had escaped her grasp by that point. She was so angry that red was tingeing the edges of her vision. Her head fell back and she howled with rage and grief. A blast of power radiated outward, with her as the epicenter. Several loud thunks signaled that Ronald and his thugs had been knocked out, but Hermione was oblivious.

She laid her head on Draco's chest and cried. "I'm so sorry," she murmured through her tears. "This wasn't supposed to happen, not to you." She choked on a sob, then hiccuped, "I love you."

It was a long time before Hermione noticed the pure, white light emanating from Draco's body, so deep was her grief. When his body was lifted into the air by the magic, and she was dumped unceremoniously onto the marble floor, she finally understood that something monumental was happening. The light flashed green for a moment, then all was still.

Laying on the floor beside her was a perfectly normal man. His white-blonde hair was perfectly arranged, his porcelain skin unblemished. When his eyes fluttered open, they were the same molten silver.

Hermione laughed in disbelief and joy before throwing herself into his arms. "You're alive," she whispered in awe. "You're alive."

Draco quickly sat up and wrapped his arms around Hermione to keep her from toppling over. His eyes widened in disbelief when he saw his own arms reaching for her instead of a monster's. He gently pushed her back and looked into her eyes.

"I'm me again," he murmured.

Hermione grinned widely. "You always were."

He matched her relieved smile. Then he impulsively leaned forward and melded his lips to hers. Her arms moved to encircle his neck. He trailed his hands up to tangle in her mane of wild curls. After several long, arduous moments, Draco pulled back a fraction once more.

"I love you, too."

 _And they lived happily ever after…_


End file.
